Looking for Sophie

“No need. I’ll just have a chicken Caesar salad.”

The waiter turned away. Garnet started to sit, but felt as if she were being watched. Not uncommon. The lounge was a popular hangout.

A quick glance around the room, though, and she froze. A man who must’ve just entered was indeed staring at her. It was the stranger who’d been asking questions at school and her apartment complex. Garnet’s cheeks heated as he blatantly slid a sleepy-lidded gaze from her head to her toes and back again.

SOMEHOW, once Julian saw Jenny and the other women leave, he didn’t expect to find Garnet Patton inside. When he did spot her, he didn’t think she’d recognize him. But the instant their eyes met and he watched her square her slim shoulders and narrow her eyes, Julian knew he’d been made. He considered ducking out, although perhaps it was time to discover if her ex-husband might have a reason to be setting up housekeeping in Georgia.

Besides, from the set of her jaw as she marched toward him, she plainly had questions of her own, and she intended to get answers.

CHAPTER THREE

“WHO ARE YOU?” Garnet demanded, nervously tugging down the sleeves of her sweater. “Why are you asking questions about me?”

Julian started to hedge his answer. But the lightbulbs around the bar mirror highlighted the fragile shadows under her eyes, indicating she was far more vulnerable than the rigid set of her spine suggested.

“I’m Julian Cavenaugh. I’m a detective from Atlanta,” he explained, noting her deepening frown. At this point, Julian was hoping to see a spark of recognition, something to indicate she’d heard of the area. Nothing was forthcoming. Instead, she shook her head, loosening strands of pale hair from a silver clip at her neck.

“I’m afraid I still don’t understand.”

And Julian could see she didn’t. “Please, won’t you sit down? I’ll try to explain. As well, I think your waiter lost you. The poor guy’s looking confused. I’d hate to be responsible for him taking your dinner back to the kitchen.”

His soft drawl and winsome smile caused Garnet to look back at her booth. Giving an ever-so slight nod, she made her way through the crowded room to her table. She apologized to her waiter.

“I saw your jacket was still here,” he said, beaming. “Is there anything else I can get you, miss?” He set her salad down and shook open a snowy linen napkin. Then he apparently noticed Julian hovering to his left.

Garnet sat and reluctantly motioned to the opposite seat. “Please bring the gentleman a menu.” She eyed her drink, then pushed the glass aside, and said, “I’d like coffee, please. Black.”

“I’ll take a dark ale. Whatever’s on tap.” Julian closed the menu. “I’d like your best steak with whatever fixings it comes with.” Offering Garnet another smile, he added, “Can I talk you into ordering something more substantial than rabbit food and high-octane caffeine? I promise I don’t mean you any harm. I haven’t bitten anyone since I was three. Suzie Walker from down the street. And she bit me first, and harder.”

Arching an eyebrow, Garnet moved croutons aside with her fork and spread the fresh Parmesan. “My salad is loaded with chicken, which won’t clog my arteries. I’d point out you don’t know anything about me or my habits, good or bad, but that’s not true, is it, Mr. Cavenaugh? You’ve been asking my friends a lot of personal questions.”

“Julian, please.” He had the grace to look embarrassed.

His beer came and they both fell silent a moment. “So, you’re a cop, not a reporter?” Garnet continued to pick at her salad, and Julian fidgeted with his cutlery and the salt and pepper shakers. He showed her his badge, returning it to his jacket pocket distractedly.

As his silence dragged on, Garnet worried that once again she’d pinned her hopes on a stranger who would disappoint her. Long ago, Garnet had vowed she’d risk everything, even meet with the devil himself if it would lead to her daughter’s whereabouts.

Now, as she studied the man seated across from her—his hawkish features and black hair curling stubbornly over his ears—she thought it was entirely possible she’d done exactly that.

“I don’t quite know where to start,” Julian said, tracing a line down the damp glass with his finger.

Garnet set down her fork and clasped her hands to keep them still. “Please, oh, please, if this has anything to do with Sophie just tell me straight out.”

Affected by her ragged voice, Julian looked away and drank from his beer. He dug in his shirt pocket and removed the grainy photograph he’d taken of the little Hackett girl at her front window. The one where he’d caught her in partial profile. He slid the snapshot across the table.

Garnet snatched it up with a strangled cry. Questions poured out one after another. “When, ah, where? How? It’s so unclear. Is this Sophie?”

Trying to tread carefully, Julian leaned forward. “What do you think?”

“Oh, God. I wish I could be sure. This was taken from too far away.” She placed the picture gently on the table. “It’s been over a year. That day, I let her dress herself for preschool. She chose pink cords, a frilly white blouse and bright red sneakers. At lunchtime, my ex-husband arrived at Sophie’s preschool unannounced. He barged past office staff who knew he shouldn’t have access and took her. The last time I saw her was when I dropped her off. In my dreams, she looks exactly as she did then. Realistically, I know she’s changed. She’s probably lost her baby fat.”

Julian said nothing, letting Garnet fill the silence. “Dale—my ex—and I finalized a bitter second custody hearing two days before he kidnapped her. The police think the fact that I was given full custody set him off. Friends said they’d seen Dale drinking excessively. Someone had witnessed him losing his temper.” Tears filled her eyes as she picked up the photo and caressed it with her thumb. “Why would you make the trip from Georgia to Alaska to show me a fuzzy photo? You called yourself a detective. Are you a private detective? Who hired you? Wayne Jenkins is the last P. I. I paid to find Sophie. He stopped his search when I couldn’t scrape together his monthly retainer. Did he approach you for some reason?”

“No. I have nothing to do with Wayne Jenkins.” Pausing to accept his steak and assure the waiter that the meat was cooked to his liking, Julian swallowed a small bite. He needed to tread cautiously. He hadn’t intended to reveal his reason for meddling in her life, but because she’d obviously been hurt in the past, he decided to share a bit more of his background. “I work for the Atlanta PD. But I’m on vacation. The truth is I have absolutely no official status in your case.”

She stared at him from teary eyes.

Julian shifted under her gaze. “Uh, my parents live in a small town about thirty miles outside Atlanta. Pop’s a postman nearing retirement. Part of his job…” Julian hesitated before continuing. “Part of his job is delivering cards that feature pictures of missing children. Pop loves kids, so he takes it very seriously.” Julian sawed off a piece of steak and stabbed it with his fork. He had no idea how fiercely he glared at it until Garnet reached across and tentatively touched his hand.

“The sergeant handling my case contacted the organization that does the postcards. We worked with them and the FBI for several months. I’m told they never close the book on a case until a missing child turns up safely…or dead,” she whispered, punctuating her obvious worry with a sob.

“Stop that,” Julian pleaded. “I’m trying to say my dad has a file box full of those cards. He sees any new families on his route, he keeps an eye open. But here’s the kicker. Once, a long time ago, when my brothers, my sister and I were in school, Pop was sure he’d found a boy on one of those cards. He was dead wrong, and a lot of people got real upset.”

“Are you trying to say that your father saw Sophie’s card and…and thinks the child in this photograph is her?”

Julian heard the hope in her voice, and tried not to encourage it. “What I’m telling you is that Pop was way off the mark the other time he thought he was right. A lot of people in our town, my family included, were adversely affected. I’m older and wiser now, and in a better position to protect him from making another mistake. Do you understand what I mean?”

“Yes, of course.” She made the appropriate response, but Julian could tell she’d grabbed on to the notion and had already let it grow by leaps and bounds.

“Eat,” he ordered, pointing at her virtually untouched salad with his steak knife. Scowling, he dug in to his baked potato and vegetables.

Garnet grabbed her fork and began spearing lettuce like a dutiful child. She even managed to swallow some, despite finding it difficult to remain still.

Her hopefulness kept Julian from bringing out the second photo—the one of a happily smiling Lee Hackett dancing around his garage with his equally joyous daughter. The little girl this lovely woman across from him wanted to be her missing Sophie.

“Before you get too invested in this,” Julian said seriously, “there are other questions that need to be considered. For instance, does your husband, uh, Sophie’s father, have relatives or friends living in the south?”

Her face fell, but she rallied to say coolly, “Dale is my ex-husband, and I’m not aware if he has family outside of Washington, but I’ll call his mother. His parents live in an assisted-living center in Washington State. An older brother farms in the Skagit Valley, also in Washington. What friends he has live here in Anchorage. But I’m the custodial parent and Dale took Sophie against a court order allowing him only supervised visits. If you know where he is, isn’t it your duty as a law officer to arrest him for kidnapping?”

“Yes. If it’s your daughter in the snapshot. That’s a big if.”

For the first time, Garnet realized this man had her at a disadvantage. Other than claiming to have come from Atlanta, Detective Cavenaugh had been very careful to give nothing away. Nothing Garnet could use to track Sophie on her own.

“I officially finish work for the summer next Wednesday,” she said. “I’ll book a flight tomorrow if you’ll tell me where I can see her for myself.” She stared at the photograph, as if willing the picture to sharpen.

“Oh, right,” Julian drawled. “And if it is her, what’s to stop your ex from murdering you and taking off with her again?”

“Dale would never do that.” She lifted her chin defiantly and drilled him with her eyes.

“Excuse me, I thought you told me he had a temper.”

“A… One coworker said she saw him lose it after I petitioned for divorce. I only ever saw moodiness. That started after he was laid off from his job and couldn’t find work. I was pregnant with Sophie at the time.”

“So, you two didn’t fight?”

She fiddled with her knife. “That depends on your definition of fighting. Dale thought we should pack up and go to Washington. Move in with his brother. But he had no job prospects there, so I balked at quitting my teaching job. I have tenure, plus my job provided us with insurance, and we had a baby due.”

Julian finished his potato while contemplating her last statement. “I wish you’d eat,” he said, making it clear he intended to clean his plate. “If this is all you normally eat, you won’t last a day on the hunt. Georgia is three thousand miles from here.”